


falling for your eyes ( but they don't know me yet )

by dormant_bender



Series: pass out at three, wake up at ten. [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Attempt at Humor, Awkwardness, Banter, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Dirty Dancing, Dorks in Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Gen, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mild Language, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9851249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormant_bender/pseuds/dormant_bender
Summary: Rafael continues to fall in love with blue eyes each and everyday until, finally, he drowns completely.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had already had everything type out and formatted but backspaced on accident and everything deleted D: But I have surgery tomoz, so I don't feel like editing it and formatting it again, so I'll wait until later xx
> 
> Other than that, I hope you enjoy and wish me luck ? :) <3 
> 
> I'll probs edit this as soon as I feel better after getting my surgery xx

At the center of campus, currently poised upon the edge of the massive fountain, rests Rafael. Classes for him were over for the day and he hadn't desired returning to the fraternity house in fear of what peculiar antics might've been going down for the day. Earlier that morning Cristiano had made a potent pitcher of his notorious, as well as infamous, 'mystery juice' that had left the vast majority of curious taste-tasters plastered within the walls of the bathroom and hunched over the toilet.

Talk about horrid stenches. So it wasn't like the raven was in a rush since his temporary roommate, Neymar, had been one of the unfortunate idiots who had subjected themselves to such madness. Absently he sifts through one of his binders, the one reserved for Literature specifically, reading over some of the notes he had taken and committing them to memory.

Or at least he tried to before he had been distracted by a head of blond plopping down unceremoniously beside him. He was muttering something low beneath his breath as he flipped a piece of paper from front to back, repeating the motion multiple times, exhaling with a deep sigh. Apparently noticing the unabashed staring, the blond glances at him then makes to gaze away but instead does a double-take.

Thin pink lips spread into a small smile and he raises a hand to offer a wave, "Hi." timidly breathes the blond, words heavily accented, eyes staring down at the paper once more before handing it toward the Brazilian.

Eyeing the paper, dumbfounded, the raven eventually plucks it up and finds it difficult to speak. Dark eyes glance up once more, locking with pretty azures, then splutters abruptly. "Fuck, your eyes are blue." 

Oh, fuck. Had he really voiced his thoughts aloud like that? Bashfully he glances back down at the paper, finding the words written on it to be Spanish, pondering just why the latter would be perplexed at its content before realization strikes that obviously he wasn't from Spain and probably didn't quite comprehend what was being said on the sheet.

When he glances back up to meet those curious eyes, he finds himself lost in his impossibly hues once more, finding himself getting lost and practically drowning in those endless depths of blue. Seeming to notice and feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, the blond shifts beneath his gaze uncomfortably, awkwardly rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand then patting his hair down just in case.

"Is there—uh, food? On my face?" the blond, still nameless, seems to scramble for the right words as he shifts his hands to prod gingerly at his face as if he had a previously undetected pimple somewhere.

"No, no. Just, uh, your face." murmurs Rafael, cheeks flushing, coughing awkwardly as he reads the contents once more. "Sorry about that, the staring. I'm not creeping, I swear, I just—.."

Nameless and blond only chuckles in response, nodding his head softly, his way of saying that he understood. "A little creepy," replies the blond teasingly as he scoots across the stone edge of the fountain so he was seated beside Rafael now: "I don't understand," he says after a moment, brows furrowing, as he points at the wording on the sheet.

It's hard concentrating on the tiny black letters, however, not when a warm jean-clad leg was pressed into the side of his own. Usually he would complain about such close proximity, especially considering the sweltering heat of the daytime, but he can't find it in himself to mind. Cologne assaults his sense, something that he hasn't smelled before, deciding to assume it was probably something pricey that he could only dream to afford one day.

The blond is leaning across him now, blue eyes scanning the sheet once more, still attempting to discern whatever the paper said. That's when Rafael clears his throat and actually proceeds to read the sheet so he could assist the spice-scented blond. Taking a consider moment, he reads the contents, realizing that it was a special schedule written specifically for a quaint group of foreign-exchange students from Germany.

Absently he ponders why the school didn't get a translator to express the contents of the letter to make it easier for the exchange students to understand. Not that he was surprised or anything, it was Spain after-all. And even if it wasn't, most countries preferred that visitors at least practiced a small sum of the language before coming over speechless and uncertain of how to speak.

Nonetheless he gives the blond back the sheet then offers a warm grin. "It's just your schedule and says where you have to go and stuff. Basic, typical shit—fuck, stuff, like that." 

Amused by the cursing, the blond snorts, nodding slowly. "German," he says, pointing to himself, an upward twitch of his lips the beginnings of a grin. "My English is better than my Spanish," admits the blond a moment later as he folds the thin sheet up and pockets it within his jeans. 

"My Portuguese is better than my Spanish, so I know the struggle." playfully retorts the Brazilian as he tucks a leg beneath him, trying not to glance at the blond in fear that he would be dumbstruck by the sight of his eyes. "So, uh, what's your name? Unless you want to be called tall, hulking and German?"

"Marc-André or just Marc." The man, now officially known as Marc, states with a confident smile. "My friends back in Germany, they call me Mats. But whatever you want." He holds a hand out in expectancy, eyes locked with Rafael's dark gaze.

For a moment the raven just stares at the fair-skinned hand before taking it a moment later, shaking it firmly. "Marquinho then." Decides the Brazilian with a smug grin. "I'm Rafael or just Rafinha. The guys back at the Frat House call me Rafuck-Boy, but you know. I'm not a fuck boy, so it doesn't apply or anything." 

"F-fuck boy..?" hesitantly inquires the blond, brows furrowing in that cute way once more, head canting imploringly to the side. 

"Don't worry about it?" dismissively states the Brazilian with an amused snort. "Just, uh. I could tell you sometime, maybe, if you gave me your number or something?"

"Is that a 'fuck boy' type of thing to do?" curiously states Marc with all seriousness, lips pursing and a brow quirking. 

Rafael opens his mouth to speak, lips parting to speak then closing shortly after, before motioning his hands in a 'gimme' motion. "Just—just gimme your phone, smartass." 

 

-

 

It had been exactly a week since meeting the German that Rafael found himself strangely infatuated with. Perhaps it was his accent when speaking Spanish or perhaps he was intrigued by his terrible usage of it? Because, honestly, it was kind of adorable and endearing how he tended to butcher certain sentences or get words mixed up with other words.

Not only that, but the blond had been teaching him some words here and there, but mostly the vulgar cuss words as Rafael had personally requested. They weren't words that he could picture the blond saying outside of their little makeshift lessons but it was amusing nonetheless to see Marc flustered about saying whatever it was he desired to know.

As much as he had detested the idea of inviting the blond back to the craziness of the fraternity, he had eventually succumbed to the temptation of doing just that. Meeting up at Marc's dormitory, which was occupied by another German by the name of Bernd—who had been very openly inviting girls, as well as boys, into the room while the two were inside—had proven to be a relatively interesting feat to endure.

Trying to talk in hushed tones to each other over the sounds of grunts, coming from Bernd himself, had been more than a little uncomfortable but mainly for Marc's sake since apparently Bernd had been a longtime best friend of the blond's. So there Rafael is currently moving about the room at a frantic pace, attempting to clean to the best of his ability, though it was impossible to tidy up Neymar's side.

Soon he hears a knock on the door followed by the sight of Neymar pushing in a blond, who easily towers over him. The Brazilian quirks an imploring brow, looking up the giant blond up and down in silent inquisition, before holding Rafael with a pointed scowl. "Does this non-Spanish speaking beanstalk belong to you or something?"

Marc glances back and forth between the two, who seemed to be in engaged in a silent conversation, before focusing his gaze solely on Rafael. "Thanks?"

"Oh, so he he does belong to you." hums Neymar with a playful waggle of his brows as he crosses his arms across his chest, hip jutting out, as he smirks smugly. "Remember the rules, Rafa? Bros before hoes and Aladdin's before—.." He looks the blond up and down once more: "Before Schwarzenegger's?"

"Ah, no." The blond speaks up, pointing a finger in the air. "He, um, he isn't German actually." 

"Oh fuck off."

Rafael intervenes before Marc can make an appropriate response, not that he looks as if he was planning on one if the expression upon his countenance is anything to go by. The way he goes rigid, offense written plainly across his face, blinking owlishly as he stares down at the hazel-eyed boy who looks at him indifferently.

"Remember you were asking about what those words meant last week?" queries the raven as he nods his head in the direction of the blond, beckoning with him with a finger toward his bed.

The blond turns his head, nodding in recognition, strolling the short distance to sit at the edge of the bed. Realization dawns on just exactly what the Brazilian was referencing, face lighting up, as he points innocently toward Neymar. "Fuck boy..?" he ponders aloud, seeing Neymar visibly wince, looking too stunned to be offended.

"You learn quick," states the raven with a sense of pride as he shoos the other Brazilian away: "Close the door when you leave, fuck-face." calls the raven to the latter with a playful wink, pursing his lips and shooting a kiss toward the elder boy. 

Still standing there, seemingly stupefied, the Brazilian points from himself to Marc then to Rafael and back to repeat the cycle. "Did he just—Rafa, I swear to God, I will smother you while you sleep." 

"Just like how you smother with James' dick in your mouth every night?"

Awkwardly in the midst of the vocal war is Marc, who is still sitting upon the edge of the bed, glancing tentatively between the two Brazilians. It goes on until eventually a shift in language is evident, perhaps their native tongue of Portuguese, which is nothing at all like Spanish surprisingly. So he stays still for a moment, brows furrowed once he hears the two break out into a fit of chuckles, until moving into motion to slip his book-bag off his shoulders to sift through the variety of books he had managed to cram into the small space.

Soon another voice is added into the mix, the blond glancing up to find another short male appearing, arms wrapping around Neymar and whispering something inaudible into his ear. Almost immediately the hazel-eyed boys' eyes grow considerably before he's snickering, a devious smirk playing on his lips, as he turns to chase after the raven-haired boy that sneaks off down the corridor.

Exhaling exasperatedly, Rafael rises and strolls toward the door, slamming it shut and locking it behind him. When he glances up, he stares at the blond apologetically, walking the short distance back and retrieving a binder full of his half-completed work. "Ney's kind of a dick."

Marc opens his mouth to speak but resolves to just nodding slowly and proceeds to offer the raven one of his papers. "You two dating or something?" absentmindedly, or so it seemed, the blond questions and makes it a point not to meet the younger's eyes.

Rafael snorts his amusement then shakes his head vehemently and even feigns chocking in response. "Fucking him—I, uh, doing him is sort of a nightmare to me, honestly. I've never thought about it nor do I want to because the idea literally makes me want to puke everywhere." 

"As long as it's not on me," muses the blond aloud with a cheeky grin playing on his lips, seemingly satisfied with the latter's response. He brings the back of a pen to his mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully, as he reads a passage from the book he has placed on his lap.

Rafael stares, transfixed, at the sight. Thin lips parted ever so slightly, pink tongue making an appearance an appearance to flicker across the end, before his mouth wraps around it completely. And yeah, okay, it wasn't something meant to purposely tease him like that but he was a guy—and guys, especially one's like him that had been single for far too long, yearned for a sight like this. It also helped that the person connected to those lips was unbelievably attractive without honestly trying to be.

Noticing the stares, as he always seems to, the blond glances up and blinks simply. "Am I that handsome?" he playfully asks, smiling around the pen, glancing back toward the book after a minute.

"I'm supposed to be helping you study is all," hesitantly speaks the raven as he motions toward the book within Marc's lap. "Since you're pretty much Spanish-challenged and complain about not understanding things all the time." 

"I know words," defensively murmurs the blond with a small frown as he hands the heavy book off toward Rafael, shoulders hunching forward in defeat.

"Well when you're learning," Rafael pauses abruptly to survey the cover of the book, brows shooting toward his hairline: "Fuck, you're learning anatomy? For what?"

Marc flicks his tongue out to soothe his chapped bottom lip, "My parents want me to be a doctor." he shrugs halfheartedly as he shifts upon the covers until he's lying comfortable upon his stomach, elbows propped up, chin resting on his folded hands. Noticing the still-stunned expression the latter wears, the blond releases a laugh. "What do you want to be?"

Once more the Brazilian pauses, mostly because he wasn't entirely certain himself. Instead of responding right away, he allows himself to gnaw thoughtfully on his bottom lip, though he should just go the honest route. "Honestly? I don't know, Marc." Said boy tilts his head, gazing up at the raven curiously. "No, it's just—I guess I haven't really thought about it, I'm not really good at anything." 

Marc crinkles his nose at the words spoken in a blatant display that he doesn't agree. "I think you're good at a lot of things." 

"Oh?" snorts the Brazilian: "Like?"

"You're good at making me laugh, even if you speak really fast and it's hard to understand sometimes."

Rafael sharply inhales, much to the latter's surprise, the blond's eyes widening in concern. The Brazilian smiles reassuringly at the German, who watches him with narrowed eyes in scrutiny, glancing intensely at the features on his face to be certain that all was well. Rafael feels the warmth of a blush tainting his cheeks as he settles the book down in front of the blond, leaning down toward him, fingers moving across the page as he reads the sentences aloud.

 

-

 

Mondays were the absolute worst, for everyone Rafael assumed, mostly because it meant the start of another dreadfully monotonous week. Of course now he had a little more excitement within his life with the new addition of a German foreign exchange student that seemed to be in none of his classes whatsoever.

Which was probably one of the most annoying struggles of being currently undecided about his major;he took pretty standard classes for now, at least until he figured something solid out. It was more than a little difficult concentrating on anything other than passing classes and dealing with the boys of the frat house, however, especially when rush week was so close to beginning.

And fuck, he hadn't even thought about finding potential pledges, not when the majority of his time was occupied assisting Marc with learning Spanish, and bits of Portuguese, more extensively. At least until he was no longer needed to be the blond's own personal translator. Sometimes he stays up and wishes that he would never learn the language himself and would always have to depend on him, but not because Rafael had a crush or anything—because, really, he didn't. 

When arriving to his Literature class that morning, he finds a blond sitting in his usual seat, and he groans inwardly. Since the beginning of the year he had been sitting there without much complaint from the other students surrounding him but yet, here he is facing a college student's worst fear. When he strolls forward, hands gripping tightly onto the straps of his back-pack, he reaches the blond and leans forward to politely explain that it was his seat he discovers something that has him gasping.

Looking up, the blond finds Rafael staring down at him, and Marc grins broadly in response. "Morning."

Rafael points to his seat then motions toward the entirety of the room before pointing two forefingers toward where the blond is seated. "You," he begins then cards fingers through his shortly cropped locks absently: "you in this class or somethin'? Because I swear there weren't ever any Germans in here, ever."

"I thought you'd be cool with it," starts the blond with an anxious chuckle, fingers scratching at his cheek. He doesn't meet Rafael's gaze and instead stares blankly at the notes situated in front of him on the surface of the desk. "I just—I convinced the Dean to let us have some of the same classes since you help me out all the time but I couldn't get every single one changed obviously, because of my major."

After the initial appeasing bewilderment settles, Rafael finds himself plopping down in the desk beside him with a thrilled smile spreading across his mouth. "No, dude, like. This is definitely cool and I'm kinda happy you did it." He pauses in his haste to reassure the elder, elbowing him playfully. "I miss hearing your annoying accent when you're not around speaking shitty Spanish to me." 

Knowing Rafael for about a month now meant that Marc had grown accustomed to the form of speech he frequented, so he knows it isn't meant to offend, and is instead said in more or less a fond way. So he glances at him through his peripheral, corners of his lips twitch upward into a grin, as he scribbles absently at the corner of his fresh new sheet of paper.

"I sort of told them you knew German, too." Innocently states the blond as he continues to doodle at the corner of the paper, drawing a little animated-looking stick figure, one that actually looks pretty impressive from Rafael's perspective.

"You sneaky little shit," teases Rafael with an amused snicker as he withdraws his Literature notebook: "I swear if the Dean tells me to go to her office later and talks about me being the student ambassador to all the German kids.." And he allows his voice to trail off in a feigned threat, shoving the blond lightheartedly.

Marc continues to scribble and add on little intricate designs around the stick figure as he listens to the younger speak. "I sort of like being the token German in your 'squad,' and I don't want to share you with anyone." 

Rafael swears there's a light pink flush spreading across the latter's fair-skin but he doesn't get to question it because the professor is at the front of the room, proclaiming through the headset he adorns that the lecture was beginning. So he curses silently, eyes slipping back to gaze at the blond once more, finding Marc going through his bag to retrieve a small black case containing a pair of glasses. Specifically a pair of black, prescription Ray Bans with clear lenses.

For once the blond doesn't acknowledge him nor his staring and instead focuses on rapidly jotting down familiar sounding words from the professor. Rafael clears his throat rather loudly to garner his attention and the blond immediately glances in his direction, brows furrowing a little at being disturbed and the latter having broken his focus, but holds his gaze steadily.

When Rafael doesn't actually say anything, however, he exhales with a sigh—not an annoyed once, thankfully—and returns to listening intently to the professor. And if this isn't playing out like a scene in one of the raven's fantasies. Dorky little Marc with a pair of thick-rimmed glasses teaching him all about the human anatomy with that sultry voice of his explaining in detail about the pe—

"You're supposed to be writing this down, too." hisses the blond a moment later, effectively destroying the mental image he was making. "The Professor said we have a test over the material next week," stresses Marc, look clearly distressed, struggling to keep up with the rapid-fire Spanish-speaking teacher.

"Like I'm actually gonna let you fail," retorts Rafael with a prompt roll of his eyes as he scrambles for a pen to neatly scrawl out everything the professor was saying in perfect detail; not that he usually did that or anything, at least not until meeting Marc. 

When the professor excuses himself, for presumably whatever reason Professor Simeone had desired to tow him away for, Rafael turns within his desk to grin deviously at Marc. "Why are you staring at me like that?" hesitantly queries Marc, wetting his bottom lip, gaze unconsciously flickering toward Rafael's plump lips.

Not noticing, Rafael parts his lip to reveal a row of perfect ivory teeth. "We're having a party back at the frat this Friday night, you game?"

"We should really be studying for that test, Rafa." insists the blond, to which Rafael scoffs at, rolling his eyes once more.

"Oh, c'mon. All we do is study when we're together, don't you want to have some fun for once?" Rafael suggests with a hopeful smile on his face. Marc is silent for a moment, seeming to have an inner conflict, before releasing a sigh and nodding. Rafael silents cheers within his mind, doing a little mental dance.

"Just—I can't have any alcohol or anything like that, it's against the rules." firmly states the German in a stern voice, staring pointedly at the raven, who groans outwardly.

"Like they're really going to test you all for a little weed and alcohol." murmurs Rafael dismissively with a roll of his eyes once more, bottom lip poking out into a pleading pout. "Maybe just a beer? One beer, just one." 

Indecisive, the blond can only shrug halfheartedly, brows furrowing as he contemplates that decision. "Maybe just one..?"

Rafael grins triumphantly through the rest of the lecture once more the professor returns after having successfully convinced the German to down, at most, one beer. After all, that seemed to be the German way, at least from what he had seen in movies and such. Plus wasn't Germany notorious for its Oktoberfest?

 

-

 

Friday night came a lot quicker than Rafael had originally thought it would, mainly because he had been mentally planning what things that he could get Marc into. There was the standard beer pong games, of course, as well as a variety of other games that the fraternity house was infamous for. When you were known for having insane parties, it was important to always up the ante a bit, because you have to maintain that title or perhaps lose it to the sorority.

Of course the brothers belong to the fraternity would never allow that to happen, which was why tonight was a themed party, like many of the other gatherings usually are. Tonight is meant to be partied in the dark because the house had been meticulously decorated earlier throughout the week to better suit the neon, glow-in-the-dark theme.

Rafael was hanging out near the front of the massive house as he patiently awaited the arrival of the blond. Fate, however, had other plans as he is abruptly intercepted by a pair of arms grabbing onto him and steering him toward a table where a checker board is set up. There are tiny shot glasses that are being used as the playing pieces and Neymar, who's currently plastered along with Fernando, shoves him down in the seat and makes a bet with Sergio and Cristiano that Rafael could beat Lionel. 

Cristiano had bet more than his usual twenty on the game but had insisted the Lionel was undefeated at the game to which Neymar boos at and rubs at Rafael's shoulders, hyping him up, whispering that he could do it. "You gotta beat that little fuck, Raf. You just gotta or I—I'll, fuck.. I dunno, man, just—Ya' gotta, okay?" slurs the Brazilian as he continues to massage Rafael's surprisingly tense shoulders.

"I can't, I was actually looking for someone—"

Fernando pipes up this time, "Who're you looking for? I could steer him, her, or whoever here. I was actually looking for 'Toine but I know he said he was going to be kinda late. His roommate is having some sort of quarter-life crisis thing."

Rafael, thankful for small victorious, smiles up at the elder boy. "Remember Marc?"

The freckled boy looks puzzled for a moment before his face lights up in recognition. "I do, yeah. German exchange kid with the glasses? Been helping him out with Math after class for Simeone." 

"Just let him know I'm here, yeah? Please?" 

Fernando places a hand upon the raven's head, ruffling his dark locks fondly. "What are bro's for?"

 

-

 

Needless to say that when the freckled man leads the blond toward the table, Rafael is already a few shots in, having had nearly everyone of his 'pieces' jumped so far. Granted, he did seem to become inebriated rather quickly than normal, not that he blames himself or anything. It was more than evident that Cristiano had already rigged the game by mixing up one of his own, personal cocktails for the game which would have made anyone lose regardless of their toleration level.

Marc, who hovers to the side of him, whispers inconspicuously in his ear which 'piece' to move. And the raven, who's honestly not even sure how he's still alive yet, unconsciously makes the decision to listen to the blond is rewarded by a string of curses emanating from Cristiano's mouth. This brings a joyous grin to Rafael's lips as Lionel, who wearily stares at the dark liquid, eventually throws it back and gags on the taste and potency.

It goes on like that for the next few minutes until Lionel announces defeat before the completion of the game and reaches for Cristiano for support, the muscular figure hoisting him up easily, though he glares at both Rafael and Marc. The Brazilian wobbles a little as he rises to his feet, gripping fast to the table to stabilize himself, then finding himself being lead away by Marc's strong frame.

"Sorry I'm a little late," apologizes the blond quietly as he leads the two toward a more secluded area where an array of multi-colored bean bag chairs are. Once the raven is settled comfortably in one, he pulls another one toward them, plopping down into it with an amused grin. He glances down at his shirt and finds it smudged with multi-colored neon paint and rubs at it only for it to cover his hands.

Rafael notices and laughs, "The theme t'night is Neon Jungle." snorts the Brazilian as he stretches his legs out before him.

It's then the blond allows his gaze to travel along the younger's frame. His hair has splatters of neon orange paint in it and he appears to be shirtless, random designs painted along his abdomen as well as arms, and extending until where he wears a pair of shorts that are also outlined in the paint. Marc offhandedly wonders where the group could have possibly bought this type of paint in such bulk but doesn't think to actually ask.

So instead he rests a hand, the one covered in paint, upon Rafael's knee and offers it a warm squeeze. "I'm glad I came in time to rescue you or else you'd probably be drowning in whatever that was you were drinking." He scrunches his nose in the dark, knowing it probably went unnoticed by the raven. "It smells really, really bad." 

"S'Cris' mystery juice." explains the raven with an amused laugh as he traces paint-covered fingers along the back of Marc's hand, attempting to make a smiley face but to no avail. "Hey—d'ya' wanna dance or somethin'?"

"Can you even dance like this?" asks the German in all sincerity as scrambles to his feet when the latter abruptly wavers to his own. Hurriedly the blond hands go out, steadying him, as he allows the younger to tow him toward the designated area of the house where most of the dancing was being down.

Never once do his hands abandon Rafael's waist, however, frightened by the idea of letting him go and having the Brazilian collapse onto the floor in a drunken heap. So when the song shifts into one that he vaguely recognizes as a Portuguese song, he holds him a little tighter, especially when he begins to move his hips to the rhythm of the song and sings, probably a lot louder than he intended, at the top of his lungs regardless of his slurred speech.

"M'Brazilian," breathlessly states Rafael as he attempts to mentally recall the choreography to the upbeat song playing.

It's a little impossible, all things considered, since the Brazilian is as far gone as he is. But somehow he makes it work as sloppy as his movements are. He swivels his hips in small circles and then abruptly pushes his ass back into Marc's front, making the blond choke on a gasp, hands tightening upon the younger's hips and attempting to prevent any further movements.

"Hey, hey.. Stop that," murmurs the blond against Rafael's ear, unable to do much else considering their close proximity, but the movement is repeated a moment later and he grunts this time and attempts to prevent the instinctual buck of his own hips. 

"S'the dance.." explains Rafael in a low, husky voice as he reaches a hand back to tangle within Marc's blond locks, head falling back against his shoulder. "Quando ela joga com a bunda no chão, quando ela ela sai o bumbum no chão, chão, chão, chão, chão~" At each breath of the last word, Rafael presses his back repeatedly, laughing boisterously aloud.

And, admittedly, Marc is more than a little aroused by the friction the movements make against his denim-clad jeans. So for now he allows the administrations, though he feels a little embarrassed by the way his cock is reacting. Not just by the movements, however, but because of the person who is currently making them as he sings along to the song.

So he attempts to find the rhythm, even though he lacks it severely, but somewhat goes with it anyhow. Soft and encouraging words, although slurred and barely comprehensible, emanated from Rafael's mouth as he gains more fluidity in his dancing. Soon the song is coming to an end, however, just when Marc was getting into the hypnotic beat.

Rafael lets up with his movements so at least he's somewhat conscious of what he was doing. But this time he turns within the snug embrace Marc has him in, smearing more of the paint across his neat Polo shirt and khaki jeans, not that he complains. There's hushed words in Portuguese, to which the blond dumbly splutters for an explanation in Spanish, but it never comes.

Because a pair of warm lips are pressing warm and tender against his own. It stuns him at least, leaves him rigid and hands slacking on Rafael's hips, because this couldn't possibly be happening right now. All he can smell is the pungent scent of alcohol clinging to his nostrils but somehow he can still taste something purely Rafael as the younger works diligently to get his lips to part.

But no, this was wrong, and Marc wouldn't allow it. Not when his friend was clearly in a stupor, so he peels him away reluctantly, and instead guides him down the corridor to where he thinks he remembers his room to be located. All the while Rafael complains and wails loudly as he tows him in the right direction, murmuring on about how good it was, and how he didn't want it to stop. Voicing whether or not something was wrong with him or if he was such a horrendous kisser that Marc was repulsed. 

Not that elegantly, mind you.

The blond presses through the door and fumbles for the light-switch, illuminating the room a moment later, bathing the room in brightness. It takes a second for the two to adjust after being in a pitch-black house for the most part but once the blond recovers, he staggers with the raven toward the bed, gently depositing him upon it and sitting down beside him.

"S'wrong wif meh..?" Rafael slurs, eyes slightly glassy, bottom lip trembling visibly.

"You," Marc states and playfully bobs him on the nose, to which the raven blinks at. "Are drunk." 

"M'not." vehemently denies the raven as falls back against the warmth of the covers and stares up at the ceiling of the room. "Swear m'not." 

"What song was just playing?"

"S'that a trick question or somethin'?"

With that Marc works on tugging the covers back and finding a way to maneuver the raven beneath them so he could be safe and comfortable. Because there was no way he would abandon the younger boy, not while he was in the state and in danger of doing something horrendously stupid. So he manages to get him beneath the covers and flickers on the lamp on the nightstand before going toward the door to turn the light-switch off.

He finds the bed easily thanks to the soft glow emanating from the small lamp and decides to stay safely above the covers while he lulls the younger boy to sleep. "Get some sleep, alright? Too much fun tonight. I'll be here in the morning."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

It doesn't take long after that for the raven to eventually succumb to the tranquility of slumber. Marc's fingers don't relent in carding through his locks, however, even after he's snoring obnoxiously loud to a point where Marc actually finds it kind of endearingly adorable. 

 

-

 

Stirring within the warmth of the bed, Rafael shifts and slowly rouses to awareness, stretching his limbs as he does so. When he blinks the sleep away, rubbing anxiously at his eyes, he finds himself owlishly blinking at the lanky form stretched out beside him. At first, through groggy eyes, he attempts to recall what had happened the previous night and comes up empty.

But soon sleep-clouded eyes clear and he comes face-to-face with the sight of Marc's peaceful form slumped rather uncomfortably against the headboard. His head is lolled to the side against the back of the headboard, arms crossed neatly across his chest, one leg crossed over the other. His cheeks are a rosy color and his lips are parted ever-so-slightly as he breathes, chest steadily rising and falling.

So he had gone to bed with Marc then? Hands pull back the covers shielding his form to discover that the pair of shorts he had adorned the night prior were still in tact and he was still obviously covered in paint if the multi-colored stains on the bedding was anything to go by. Groaning to himself, he shifts, crawling out of bed and stripping of the shorts as he goes toward the adjoining bathroom.

He slips into the shower easily without much hassle though the trek toward the bathroom had made him painfully aware of the pulsing of his head. Hopefully after a cleansing shower he would feel an ounce better or perhaps he would consult one of the older guys in the fraternity for something to take to ease the nausea.

But for now he relaxes, hands propped against the tile of the shower wall, beneath the pounding and hot heat of the shower. It doesn't take long, as his showers never seem to, but when he exits the shower in a billow of steam, he feels considerably a lot better than he had before. Fingers reach for the towel he had placed upon the counter, tying it securely around his waist, before exiting the room.

He absently combs his fingers through his damp locks, the strands clinging to his forehead and back of his neck, a nuisance he despised like no other. When he emerges from the bathroom, however, it's to the sight of Marc sitting on the bed hunched over and rubbing at his sleep-encrusted eyes. At the sound of the door opening, however, he glances up and locks eyes with Rafael.

"Mind telling me what happened last night?" inquires the Brazilian, cheeks flushing darkly, as he wavers in his spot for a moment before pointing toward his dressed. "I, uh, I'm gonna get dressed real quick."

"Want me to leave for a minute or—?"

"—No!" Rafael replies abruptly, awkwardly clearing his throat, trying to play it off. "Nah, man. You can stay," he states casually with a halfhearted shrug of his shoulder, watching as the blond hesitantly seats himself upon the bed once more. 

Marc is relatively silent as Rafael sifts through his dresser for a suitable pair of boxers and a pair of shorts to wear while the blond attempts to formulate a response to what had actually occurred. His eyes unconsciously follow every movement the younger makes, concentrating on how the droplets clinging to his skin trail down the planes of his back, meandering down the muscle to where they disappear to soak into the absorbent material of the towel.

"Marquinho?" questions the Brazilian, glancing over his shoulder at the blond, brows furrowed. "Oh, fuck—I mean, freak. Did I—Did I puke on you?"

Snorting his amusement, with the tension disrupted, he shakes his head. "No, you didn't puke on me. I thought you would've at first, but you didn't."

"So..?" Rafael trails off as he abruptly abandons the towel in favor of tugging on his boxers.

Marc averts his gaze after a moment of staring, too much of a gentleman to appropriately appraise the swell of the younger's assets. So instead he awkwardly clears his throat, scratching at the base of his throat, gaze flickering from nowhere in particular to stare at anything other than the raven. "Not much, really. You were, uh, really drunk." 

The Brazilian snorts, fully aware of the fact. "No shit, I feel so bad this morning. Did anything else happen that I should know about?"

"Uh—Yes." He pauses abruptly and receives a perplexed quirk of the brow from Rafael, who is just now shimmying into a pair of loose-fitting shorts. "I mean, no. Not really, no."

"So is it yes or is it no?" Rafael teases lightheartedly as he joins the elder boy on the bed, tucking a leg beneath his form. He leans back on his palms, staring at the blond imploringly, a small and encouraging smile on his mouth. "Or are you getting your words mixed up again?"

Marc hesitates before sighing resolutely. "Yes, something happened." 

"And..?"

"And I don't want to say what." 

Rafael looks taken aback by that, pursing his lips firmly, as he stares quizzically at the blond. But Marc won't meet his eyes and is still glancing about the room as if surveying it for the first time. So the tawny-skinned boy elbows him and coins him a pointed look, as if prompting him for a response, but the blond pretends he doesn't notice at all.

"C'mon, man. You can tell me. Or you can show me. Wanna play charades?"

Marc licks his lips at that, thinking about the kiss the night prior, before gulping deeply. "I, uh. That's worse actually." 

"So you're going to leave me hanging then?" Rafael questions sounding a little disappointed, nibbling at his lower lip. "Please tell me?" pleads the younger male as he tugs at Marc's arm like a child, pouting.

"I'm not mad at you for doing it, I know how you were, so I can't be mad." Maybe a little disappointed, muses the blond, as he takes a deep breath and decides to just blurt it out and get the inquisition over with. "You kissed me." he says in one breath, relieved once everything was out, smiling bashfully at the raven.

Rafael's eyes wide almost comically at the reveal and thinks that, yeah, he vaguely remembers something like that occurring in his clouded memory. Perhaps it had been a mutual type of thing, hopes the raven, as he averts his gaze to stare down at the fingers fumbling within his lap. Ivory teeth sink into his lower lip, contemplating what his next move would be, sucking on the lip to soothe it a few moments later.

He hears his pulse thudding heavy like the bass from the previous night and it pounds mercilessly against his eardrums in an uneven rhythm. It doesn't hurt, no, but it does make him wince a little. He isn't opposed to the idea of kissing the latter at all, which was probably why his pulse was speeding up and heightening in volume, which—He chances a glance at Marc, attempting to gauge his reaction, but the blond is staring at his folded hands within his lap with an unreadable expression upon his countenance.

So he takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, then releases it a second later. It was better to be open about it, he knows this, and even repeats it like a mantra within his head. Because yeah, he had feelings for the blond that had gone unspoken at least until the party last night. It had only been a little while that he had possessed such feelings but they were brazen and already gaining strength as the days went.

So he playfully nudges the blond, garnering his attention, maintaining steady eye contact with him as he poses the question. "Did you like it..?" he asks, sounding flippant about the subject, trying not to sound too invested in the answer to spare his own feelings.

"I—.." Marc trails off and flushes a dark crimson color as he nudges the younger boy back. "Did you..?"

"I'm the one who doesn't remember," reminds the raven with a lighthearted laugh, eyes narrowing as he surveys the latter; he's a little fidgety about it, which is to be expected, and he wets his lips.

"I guess I'm the one who's not going to forget." 

Once more Rafael feels that freeze within his chest, as if he had been holding his breath, and perhaps he had been. It was literally a heart-stopping response but soon his heart reverts to it's rapid palpitations as he places a hand upon Marc's bicep once more. The blond glances at him, eyes bright with mirth and hopeful, which is returned by Rafael's bashfulness, gazing up at him through his lashes.

"Can I then..?" Marc breathes softly into the quiet, placing a hand over Rafael's. "Kiss you, I mean."

"Uhh, yeah.." breathlessly hums the raven, who's already leaning forward, meeting the blond halfway.

Once their lips connect, Rafael is contemplating how he could have forgotten such an experience. Marc's lips fit his like a missing puzzle piece, melding perfectly together, moving in sync. They're warm and tender and slightly moist as he applies more, experimental pressure until Rafael is sighing contently into the kiss. He chooses to deepen it by tilting his head slightly to the side, pressing more insistently against Marc's mouth, who's fully compliant and seems to revel in the simple fact that he was allowed to do it again.

And again and again and again because Rafael didn't intend to stop anytime soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know how I did, yes? :) xx


End file.
